


When The Party's Over.

by lovinglilies



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Betrayal, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Comfort, Conflict, Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Insanity, Internal Conflict, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Permadeath, Self-Harm, Swords, Traitor Toby Smith | Tubbo, War, dreamnotfound but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovinglilies/pseuds/lovinglilies
Summary: Tubbo has just about had enough of the neglect, and pain, and torture L'Manberg has brought upon him. He's done with it all. In the nation's deepest moment, the peak of the SMP war, he breaks under the pressure of a thousand lies. What happens when he begins to dip deep into the pools of insanity with no more support to hold him afloat?(THIS IS GOING TO HAVE MANY TRIGGERING THINGS! THERE IS GOING TO BE A LOT OF HURT, BLOOD, INJURY, AND DEATH, ALONG WITH GRAPHIC SCENES OF PANIC ATTACKS AND POSSIBLE SELF HARM! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND STAY SAFE! MAKE SURE TO READ TAGS!)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 156





	1. The Beginning of The End.

L'Manberg is beautiful, it'd take an idiot not to see that. The walls stood high, black and shimmering in the light of the afternoon sun, cracks and patches adding character to the walls of the nation.  
  


But there was also pain, laced beneath the patches and adding story to each crack, trauma of fighting battles it wasn't meant for, wasn't built for.  
  


To be honest, the nation was at its worst. In the midst of a war the nation is underprepared for, against this server's strongest tyrant, tension was high and hope was slim.   
  


Currently, a blonde haired boy was letting the stress get to him, and the closest thing he could lash out at happened to be his uneasy friend, who stood in his office and looked as if he'd rather not be there. He always hated the taller one's outbursts, but it's not like he was gonna say anything more than he usually did,  
  


Right?

  
"What the fuck are we gonna do?"  
  


  
Tommy was pacing back in forth in the small room him and Tubbo currently resided in, head in his hands as he loudly rambled. Tubbo avoided looking in his direction, finding it easiest to just let the taller one get it out. There was a lull in the ramble, and Tubbo took the opportunity to try and get a word in, to soothe his friend or bring him ideas, he wasn't sure,  
  


"Tommy what if-"  
  


Tubbo made the clear mistake of opening his mouth, it seems, something he noticed he hasn't been doing as often, outside of these meetings. He used to love talking, loved rambling about anything and everything his brain could think of. Like a living typewriter, he could make stories on the fly, entertain his friends with a joke on the spot. But lately, Tommy's been interrupting him, weither it be holding his hand up to silence him or just speaking louder, and it's made Tubbo think that maybe his thoughts are best left unspoken, sometimes.  
  


But Tommy still cared, right?  
  


"God, This is so fucking stressful! We- this war- how did we let it come to this?! I need Wilbur, I can't do this without Wilbur, and he's- he's gone MIA, he hasn't been here in days-"  
  


Tubbo furrowed his brows, pressing his mouth into a thin line. That was the fourth time Tommy had cut him off after an attempt to put input in, and he was starting to get a little frustrated at this. Usually he doesn't push it, but by god this was Tubbo's war too, he wanted to speak, he needed to speak. His thoughts were left too long inside, building up and threatening to burst, and he felt words bubble out into the tense air before he could stop them,  
  


"Tommy, listen-!"  
  


Tommy threw his hands down, turning towards Tubbo, annoyance flashing in his eyes, before he sighed, holding the bridge of his nose. Tubbo frowned, Tommy's actions lighting a small fire deep inside him. Tommy exhaled, and the tone that his words left in were nothing short of babified, the same tone you'd use to scold a toddler who's throwing a tantrum, and the early flames of anger boiled deep in the smaller,  
  
  


"Tubbo, I know you mean well and you want to help, but please be quiet. I don't even know why I called you in here, you're just-"  
  
  


Tubbo felt the heat rise, and his fists balled at his sides as he watched his words, very carefully. He scoffed, and felt Tommy's eyes fall on him, burning holes in the top of his head as he stared at his feet. His voice was shaking with anger, wobbling on the edge between yelling and talking normally. It was coming out, he was coming undone, months of built up neglect and emotions rattling through his core, shaking his hands as he began,  
  
  


"Tommyinnit you know exactly why you called me in here. Wipe that pity from your face and listen to what /I/ have to say for once! You- You called me in here to talk strategy, to ask 'what the fuck are we doing', and then cut me off when I try to give some ADVICE, and when I get upset you turn around and-and talk to me like I'm some child who can't comprehend what's going on! I know what's going on pretty damn well, Tommy! We're in a war, our lives are on the fucking line, I know that damn well! But, I did not agree to join this nation to be someone's-someone's bell boy! I want to be heard! This is my war too! Does- Does my word mean nothing?! Because you sure act like it doesn't!"  
  
  


Tommy was taken aback, his whole demeanor collapsed beneath him. He'd never heard the boy speak with such anger in- well- his life, really. Tommy looked right confused, his eyes staring into ones full of neglect, Tubbo having raised his head midway through his outburst, and he felt a little guilt pool in his heart. He grounded himself, and threw back a half assed remark,   
  
  


"Where did this come from, Tubbo? You're acting like a child! I haven't- I haven't ignored you, at all. Your input is nice, appreciated even, but sometimes it's just.."  
  
  


"Not needed? not wanted? Idiotic? Speak your mind, Tommy, I wanna hear it! Why do you keep calling me in here if my input isn't valued? I can't even put in anything because you keep interrupting me! There's no point!"  
  
  


"Then why do you still come, Tubbo? Tell me, so I can re-evaluate. Why do you keep coming back if you feel this way? It's almost like you crave the conflict, like you need it to feel important, or, something."  
  
  


Tubbo looked at Tommy like _he lost his fucking mind_. Heat pooled in Tubbo's chest, he wasn't sure what it was the beginning of. He did know that he felt the tears pool in his eyes, the heat rise in his cheeks, and watched his gaze fall to the floor.   
  
  


"You-"  
  
  


his voice cracked and he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, pearls of hurt boiling on his lashes and pooling down porcelain cheeks in rivers of anguish, flushed pink in anger and acute embarrassment, gaze following the cracks of the concrete floor as he avoided the storm blue staring craters into his hair,  
  
  


"You really think I-I'm just here to...to be your punching bag? Because I like the attention? Is that it? Then maybe, maybe I shouldn't even be here, huh? If my input is so unwanted, maybe this war isn't mine to fight. "  
  
  


Tubbo turned, and Tommy's eyes widened, he's losing a soldier, Wilbur is going to be pissed. He reached out, attempting to stabilize the situation, try and pull Tubbo back to the cliff of reasoning. He grabbed Tubbo's jacket sleeve, who turned back and glared at the blonde with betrayal, the pain of losing a friend he so dearly cared for, and for a moment Tommy felt the unbridled rage burn him to his core.   
  
  


"Tubbo-"  
  
  


The shorter boy yanked his sleeve out of Tommy's grasp, who let his hand fall to his side after lingering in place for a moment, pale fingers shaking,  
  
  


"Please don't touch me. I-I need time away from you, Tommy. Let me leave, you've made your point clear."  
  
  


Tubbo slammed the door behind him, making his way to the exit, not before grabbing a flint and steel off the counter, along with a potion or two laying out. He walked, he isn't sure how far, until he was sure he was far enough away from L'Manberg to only see the faint lights of the lanterns, from Tommy, and plopped down. He was tired, his eyes swollen and heavy, and He curled up. It was cold, he was cold. The moon had begun to rise halfway through his journey, it seems, but it didn't stop him from angrily removing his L'Manberg hat and jacket, chucking it in front of him, leaving him in a thin undershirt and jeans. He glared at the uniform, the amount of distaste he felt for the place, a place he used to call home, left a sour taste in his mouth, an overwhelming yearning to get sick to rid himself of it. He was just a pawn this whole time, a piece in Wilbur's game, wasn't he? God he was blind.  
  
  


He pulled the flint and steel from his pocket, and in one quick swipe, watched the uniform he used to wear with pride burst into flames. He smiled slightly into the warmth of the flames. He was free. A lingering feeling of dread awaited him, and the feeling of being watched burning into his head, but he couldn't care less as he reveled in the freedom of release. He was no longer tied to a side of bloodshed and chaos, he was his own self. he held himself, body shaking violently, the cold making his fingers go numb, and shut his eyes, watching the red and yellow splotches dance behind them. It was soothing, the colours that greeted him with each blink still remaining. It's odd, the colours of the world following him when he's lost everything else. . He sighed with happiness and felt the hands of sleep begin to pull him close.  
  
  


He barely registered the noise of leaves crunching beside him, but, too deep in sleep to register it as a threat, he let himself succumb. He only stirred awake to the feeling of being carried, the rythmetic bobbing soothing him, and an off-white bandana strip tickling his face, belonging to whoever was carrying him. He was acutely aware of the jacket thrown across him, but he didn't have the energy to open his eyes and peer up at who was taking him, the drain of crying and his outburst taking a toll on him. Part of him didn't care, not worrying if this was a friend or foe, if he was being carried to his death or sanctuary, because the presence felt safe and warmed his cold bones.  
  


He was free, either way. That's what he wanted. 


	2. Unwanted Findings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a trigger warning for panic attacks in this chapter, Tubbo experiences one in the very beginning of the chapter! Please read with caution and stay safe!

"Where- Where did you find him again?"  
  


Hushed voices, blurry and almost unintelligible, but through the throbbing of his head he could make out the words, keeping his eyes shut and breathing even to avoid interrupting whoever it was speaking.

"I-I- Out in the woods, to the North of L'Manberg. I don't know what he was doing, but-"  
  


Familiar. The voice was very familiar, and it sent adrenaline shooting through his heavy body, alerting him of a danger that was relatively false, though the idea of injury still lingered heavy on his mind,  
  


"So you just took him in?! What if he's dangerous, Sapnap? He's the enemy! You don't know his intents."  
  


Tubbo's breath stuttered at the other's voice, a British twinge to it and it dawned on him who these voices really belonged to, and he was suddenly hyperaware of the scent of gunpowder and pine he was resting on. He recognized it instantly as a scent that's nearly killed him many times, his heart thumping aggressively against his chest.  
  


"We are the same to him as he is to us, George. What was I meant to do, leave him to die? Escort him back? I'd be dead before I even got to the walls!"  
  


A strangled sigh, and then a whisper, considerably lower in volume,  
  


"I don't- I don't know what happened to him George, but you didn't see him when I found him. He looked...awful. He-"  
  


"What is Dream gonna think, Sap? He's gonna be downright pissed, you still brought an enemy into our lines, hurt or not."  
  


"Why don't we just- wait for him to wake up, and talk to him? Before jumping to shit? I'm sure Dream will understand, you know he's..nevermind."  
  


"Fine, but if something happens it's your head on the spike, got it?"  
  


Dual footsteps, making their way across the room, and then the quiet click of a door shutting, and Tubbo shot up, chest heaving and eyes blinking rapidly. The room he was in came to view as he looked around the room, head fuzzed as the scent filled his senses. He'd memorized it by now, the smell of gunpowder and a forest of spruce, the smell of the colour red, bringing him near death too many times to count, promising danger and the glint of diamond pressed to him. He felt his breath shallow, his head spinning with panic, the need to _get the hell out_ , the overwhelming realization that there's nowhere else for him to go if he did leave, he'd be just as screwed over in L'Manburg, if not worse. He curled in on himself, attempting and failing to ground himself as he spiraled, hot tears searing his cheeks and staining the slightly dirty undershirt he still wore, unable to process anything but his nerves screaming at him, overwhelming him and pushing him deeper into the attack.   
  


He didn't recognize the presense that made its way into the room, carrying a different scent than what surrounded him, the faint, contrasting smell of vanilla, lingering traces of lavender, the colour blue, breaking through the fog enough for him to feel the soft hand fall to his shoulders that he quickly pulled from, his senses screaming in unknown danger, eyes blown with panic and fear. He couldn't make out the face through his tears, only the glimmer on the vague shape of glasses in his blurred vision. With heightened senses everything felt like danger, like his life was threatened by the touch that still burned his shoulder,  
  


"D-Don't- Please don't I-I'll do anything- Don't-"  
  


His voice cracked and wavered, raw and vulnerable, and watched the figure physically recoil. The words they spoke were muffled, as if he was drowning, he was drowning, he felt his lungs filling with metaphorical water, suffocating him,  
  


and then the original scent grew tenfold, and larger hands were waving in front of his eyes,  
  


"-ubbo- Tubbo, there he is- listen, can you hear us?"  
  


Tubbo nodded, trying to focus on the voice instead of the feeling of death, working it's way through his bones and tearing through muscle,  
  


"Breathe with me, can you do that? Follow me-"  
  


He followed blindly, eyes screwed closed as he worked on breathing, the water constricting his lungs draining, dispersing as heat through his aching body, and when he opened his eyes he found his vision restored, the after-effects of the panic attack washing over him, his senses calming down and allowing him to relax.  
  


They instantly heightened once more when he saw the two figures ahead of him, one with sun-kissed skin and a worried look, the other with white goggles and a vaguely uncomfortable one, and he backed up into the corner, eyes wide in panic. The tanned one tossed his hands up in surrender, showing he was visibly unarmed and meant no harm.  
  


"Calm- Calm. We're not gonna hurt you, I promise, I promise."  
  


Tubbo shook his head, curling in on himself. He couldn't get away, the growing sense of the end dragging him down.  
  


But why didn't they attack him while he was asleep? Why weren't they advancing on him now? And why did the raven haired boy have a look of genuine sympathy present in onyx crystals?  
  


His head was spinning, swirling him in a wave of nausea as he blinked confusedly at the other 2 males. Nothing made sense to him right now.  
  


"What...What do you want from me? I-I'm not- I'm not telling you anything, don't even try!"  
  


George shook his head as Sapnap spoke, a twang of kindness within his words, and Tubbo almost took it as condescending sympathy,  
  


"All we want to know is why you were in the forest, alone, in the middle of winter with a half-burnt L'manburg uniform next to you. We just want to know what the hell happened to you."  
  


Tubbo furrowed his brows, racking his brain to recall the memories of yesterday. He'd gone on a walk with Tommy, they laughed and smiled and it almost felt like before the war, before Tubbo began to check over his shoulder after each step, before he carried a concealed weapon strapped to the inside of his coat, before he felt the sense of death washing over him just from a scent. Tubbo had gone home happy, tending to his bees and preparing supplies for the next day, only for Niki to come to his door and claim Tommy needed to meet him inside.  


His heart tightened as he remember the argument, as he listened to the cruel words play in his head on loop, before he stormed out of the room and into the forest, swearing from L'Manburg, burning his uniform and crying himself to sleep against the bark of a tree. He unconsciously grimaced, and felt himself almost regret it.  
  


Almost.  
  


"I-I don't- Why does it matter to you? You're the enemy, shouldn't you- like- be killing me or something, holding me hostage? I'm completely defenseless, so why are you acting like you care about what happened to me?"   
  


Sapnap's expression dropped, brows furrowing slightly,  
  


"You're acting like everyone's first thought is to hurt you. We may be enemies but we're not monsters."  
  


Tubbo laughed dryly, a deadpan look on his face,  
  


"You had me fooled."  
  


Sapnap sighed softly, but his voice and features remained steady, the comment clearly not affecting him like Tubbo hoped it would,  
  


"You're very clearly distressed, evident by the..scene we just witnessed, and it's worrying to see anyone in that state, enemy or friend. It had to have been bad."  
  


Tubbo shook his head, scoffing. They had to think he was a serious idiot if they wanted him to believe they wanted anything more than to draw information from him, there's no other option.   
  


But what else does he have? He can't go back to L'Manburg, his uniform is burnt and his fight with Tommy still stands fresh in his mind, there's no way Wilbur hasn't caught wind of it yet. He'd be furious, if Tubbo were to return, he'd be scolded like hell, possibly even exiled for disobeying a higher-up, if Wilbur wanted to go above and beyond.   
  


"Does it really matter? I-I had a fight with Tommy, it was stupid and spur of the moment and I told him I was done. I.."  
  


Tubbo swallowed as it dawned on him just what he did. He left a nation he'd spent the last few months defending, over what? Being ignored? Because something mattered more than him? He felt the heavy pools of guilt seep in steadily, and his gut churned in an uncomfortable way, as if he were going to be sick.  
  


"I left it all behind."  
  


Tubbo looked on with watery eyes into the dual looks of sympathy,  
  


"I really messed up, didn't I."  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


  
Tommy bent over himself, one hand on his stomach and the other resting weakly against the scarred metal of the camar van, emptying his stomach into the grass and gravel below. He retched, dry heaving and then spitting to rid his mouth completely of the sick, the bitter taste lingering against his tongue.  
  


"Jesus Christ Tommy, are you alright?"   
  


The familiar voice of his General came to his ears with intense concern dripping from it, his cautious footsteps approaching and a warm hand resting on his back. Tommy turned instantly, bloodshot eyes widening as he stared up at Wilbur.   
  


"I-I- I'm sorry you had to see me like this, Wilbur, I didn't-"  
  


Wilbur cut him off with a hand held up, and Tommy instantly shut his mouth, words dying in his throat.   
  


"Don't apologize, Tommy, never apologize. I've never seen you like this, man, what's going on? You can tell me anything."  
  


Wilbur rested his raised hand on Tommy's shoulder, a stiff attempt at comforting the shaken teenager, and Tommy stopped himself from leaning into the touch.  
  


"Tubbo and I- we fought, Wil. It was ugly, and he- he stormed out. I didn't mean to make him mad, I just had a slip of mouth and he took it the wrong way and I think I lost him, I can't lose him Wilbur."  
  


Wilbur's expression was unreadable, and Tommy wished he would say something, do something, show any sign of pity or anger or aggression, but he just stood blankly, brown gazing to blue.  
  


"Tommy, listen. I'm sure Tubbo- Tubbo is going to be completely fine. You know how he is, he gets upset and he needs time to process what he did wrong and then he's fine. He's probably on his way back now, with an apology and a smile. It'll be okay, you'll be okay, and he'll be okay."  
  


Tommy sniffed, and wiped the gathering wetness from his eyes before it could fall,  
  


"You promise?"  
  


A smile of false hope,  
  


"I do."  
  


The weight of the burnt uniform in his travel bag he'd picked from the forest floor was left unspoken, left yet another secret from the citizens of L'Manburg, and Wilbur felt deep within him that the next few weeks will leave everyone to the decisions of God.


	3. Switching Lanes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo makes a decision.
> 
> There's a reference to suicide in this chapter, though it doesn't actually occur! Be careful and stay safe :D

Sapnap and George spent the next hour talking Tubbo down from the edge of another panic attack, even going as far as dramatically emptying their pockets and patting themselves down, swearing innocence and assuring him he was completely safe with them.  
  


The hours after were spent discussing what Tubbo had done, the details of the fight, and even just soothing the boy as he teetered on the edge of regret and relief.  
  


  
It was George who spoke the breaking line,  
  


"Maybe it was the best for you, Tubbo."  
  


Tubbo snapped his head toward the brunette, who avoided his eyes and looked down at his hands to avoid the look of pure disbelief the younger held.  
  


"I mean- listen! From how you describe Tommy acting towards you, it was toxic and he didn't value you for your true worth. He used you as a punching bag, Wilbur used you as another piece in his fantasy war, I mean- maybe you weren't bad for L'Manburg, but L'Manburg was bad...for you. Maybe that's why you don't know if you regret anything, because deep down you knew it was bound to happen, you leaving L'Manburg."  
  


The other two men present stared at the third, eyes blown in shock and jaws slack, before Sapnap nudged George with a gentle elbow,

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience, Gogy."  
  


He turned back to Tubbo, who stiffened under the gaze of the adult,  
  


"But you're completely right. Whatever was happening in L'Manburg wasn't good for you, and you did the right thing by leaving. Everything is your choice, now. Where do you want to go from here?"  
  


Tubbo blinked, completely taken aback by the words of his enemy, brain scrambling to process his words. He'd never been asked what he wanted to do, for his input on a matter and have it seem so genuinely wanted. He sighed sharply, and the other two sat patiently as the boy organized his thoughts.  
  


At first, he considered going back. Apologizing to Tommy with a sweet smile, even gifting him something to show how genuine he was, swearing to keep his mouth shut more often, fall back in the line of Tommy's words and follow orders. It seemed like something he could be used to, the obeying blindly, maybe he'd even feel good if they won the war, maybe Tommy would go back to normal if they won, if Tubbo had a helping hand in winning. He wishes deeply for Tommy to come back to normal, back down from his pedestal and be him.  
  


But he shook his head, brows furrowed, when he remembered that it wouldn't be normal. The scars of war would always be there, the ropes connecting their relationship would forever be snapped, no matter how many times they tried to tie them back together. It can't ever be the same as the past, even the greatest time machine wouldn't make the past feel of the past. Because no matter how many times Tubbo tried to pretend it was the same, the damage was done and the venom Tommy spit at him would always remain embedded deep in him, opening wounds just as they were closing, a painful cycle he's not sure he could live to repeat.   
  


So what was he to do? Allow himself to live in the pain of L'Manburg until it eventually swallowed him whole, brought him to the end in the form of a shiny blade through his stomach, driven by his own hand or someone else's, or....  
  


  
Get revenge. The idea of revenge came through his mind in a flash of hot white, new and unfamiliar as he sat confused. He'd never thought of hurting another intentionally before, but the more he thought on the past, the more he realized that's exactly what L'Manburg did to him. Distressed, he wondered what he had done so badly that made L'Manburg feel this way, gift him with the sour gifts of revenge on his own skin. A piece of him wanted to return the favour, the feeling of wanting L'Manburg to hurt, crumble and wilt with the help of his hand, spreading through his bones with a welcomed warmth. He didn't want to be weak and pliant anymore. Was he going insane?  
  


If this is insanity, then he welcomes madness with open arms and a warm smile.   
  


"I want...I want them to feel how I felt. I want to be a cause in their crumble."  
  


Yet the question still itched in the rational piece of his brain, the part that hasn't been corrupted by sadistic thoughts just yet,  
  


"Does that make me a bad person? Am I bad for wanting to hurt people who've wronged me?"  
  


Sapnap places a gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him, and with his words he felt the last of corruption overtake him,  
  


"If that makes you a bad person, then everyone is at least a little bad."  
  


Tubbo nodded, a small smile finding it's way onto his face. He felt the weight that the sins of his actions carried fall to his shoulders, but he couldn't feel bothered to let it affect him. Guilt ate at him deep within, from the thoughts of hurting his best friend so greatly, but if the words that left the blonde's mouth held any ounce of genuine, Tubbo supposes that they were never best friends to begin with.  
  


"I'll have to go back, I know it. But...I want to speak to Dream, in person. Alone."  
  


George and Sapnap shared an uneasy look. Dream was an unsteady individual, everyone knew that, and going to him and telling him, 'Hey, your enemy wants to talk to you about betraying his previous nation! He's completely trustworthy and we even let him into our base!' seemed like an idea that would end with a sword to your neck. But the pleading look in Tubbo's eyes did wonders to convincing the older men, and George nodded. Dream always had a soft spot for George, if anyone could convince him to speak to Tubbo it was the brit.  
  


"Great. There's a hole in the L'Manburg wall, it's concealed by trees, no one goes over there. You'll know it when you see it, it's on the northwest side. That's where you can meet me. For now, thank you. For-For listening and- understanding."  
  


Tubbo stood, legs slightly shaky, and held on a little tighter to the sweater Sapnap lended him, to battle the cold.   
  


"Of course, Tubbo. We'll talk to Dream, we'll get him on board if it's the last thing we do."  
  


George stepped forward, and it was his turn to set a hand on Tubbo's shoulder, the grip firm and slightly comforting,  
  


"Just remember that you can't turn back once this happens, okay? Don't go flipping sides back and forth, it won't end well."  
  


Tubbo nodded, offering George a soft smile, and then stepped towards the door, hand falling to the doorknob as he turned back to his two...allies. It felt correct, allies.   
  


"I promise, I'm not turning back. This is what I want to do."  
  


And he stepped into the winter air, his gut churning at the thought of going back to the dreaded place and putting on an act once more, but the comfort of knowing it would all end soon stopped him from diving too deep into the feeling.  
  


'Let's get this shit over with,' He thought, and trudged forward towards his changed past. 


	4. Arrival.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo's come home :)
> 
> So what other explanation is there for the burnt uniform?

Wilbur slammed his hand down on the desk, other hand supporting his head.  
  


He was at a dead end. Tommy wasn't himself, the loss of a soldier weighing deeply on him, and Tubbo still hadn't come home. The burnt uniform he'd found in the forest still weighed heavily in his mind, a underlying sense of uneasiness itching in his brain at the mere thought. What did it mean? What happened to Tubbo? He was slowly losing hope that he was alright, and Wilbur wouldn't admit it but it scared him, greatly, more than war ever could. He can't lose a soldier, not when they're so far in.  
  


Things were tense, so tense and he felt like he was being pulled apart by invisible hooks, muscles unbelievably tight beneath his paled skin. He hardly heard the door behind him open, and he didn't move his head to look up. The figure approached next to him, and by the hands anxiously fiddling with the pastel sweater sleeves, fingers thin and nail polish chipped around the edges, he could infer it was Niki. He refused to look at her, trying to hide the fresh tears that pool in his eyes and splash on the old surface of the wooden table.  
  


"Will,"  
  


  
He stiffened. She sounded serious, and worried, and it hurt him deeply but made him angry at the same time. He didn't _need_ pity, or comfort, he _needed_ answers. He needed his men. His head snapped up, and the angry words he intended on speaking died on his tongue as he registered her expression. The bags under her eyes shadowed in the soft light, her mouth pulled into a deep frown as green eyes scanned Wilbur's hunched figure, a half empty bottle of an unlabeled liquid in one of his hands. She looked tired, very tired, and worried and stressed and _just like him-_ He never considered how this must be affecting the others, he never considered how _he_ was affecting the others. He should be more considerate, sometime. He sighed softly, any stiffness in his tone fading.  
  


"Stand up, please."  
  


He scoffed, shaking his head and taking another sip of the liquid,  
  


"As if you can give me orders and expect me to follow, Niki."  
  


Wilbur's shoulders tensed at the tone of her words, voice wavering as she held down unshed tears, the sight of her friend so hurt tearing her to pieces,  
  


"I'm not going to ask again, Wilbur. Please, _stand up._ "  
  


  
Hesitantly, he stood, chair scraping the cobblestone floor unsatisfyingly loud, in front of her small figure, looking down with a blank expression. He stood a head taller, but in this moment he felt unbelievably small under her gaze. She smiled solemnly, reaching up to wipe the tears he didn't notice fall down his pale cheeks. He looked away, cheeks pinkening in embarrassment at being so vulnerable in a time when he has to be his strongest, and she tilted his head to look back at her. Her eyes were soft, a safe space for him to rest, and Wilbur nearly got lost in the endless field of emerald.  
  


  
"It'll be okay. Everything will work out. You can let go in front of me, Will, I don't judge, you know I don't. I know it doesn't seem like it now, believe me, but seeing you so hurt, it hurts me too, Will. I want you to know I am here for you, always. Everything is going to be okay. You don't have to act tough for me, for anyone, we're all feeling hurt."  
  


  
Wilbur stifled a sob, and Niki frowned. She leaned over the table, fidgeting with the small radio they used to pile around and listen to, to drown out the chaos outside their walls, and turned it up. A song Niki knew very well began, her and Wilbur's song, and she smiled wide as recognition wavered in Wilbur's expression. They used to listen to this for hours, scream the lyrics until their voices were hoarse, as Niki baked bread and Wilbur spoke of his first days on the SMP, his memories he finds himself missing sometimes, while lying under the stars.   
  


Niki took hold of his shaking hand gently, removing the bottle from his weak grasp and placing it on the table. She laced their fingers gently together, the size difference nearly comical as she smiled softly. She placed his other hand on her waist, and in turn put her's on his shoulder.   
  


"Do you know how to dance, Will?"  
  


Wilbur shook his head, a little embarrassed at the confession,  
  


"It's okay, let me show you! Like this,"  
  


They began to slowly step and sway, Wilbur looking down at his worn boots to ensure he didn't crush her toes with a wrong step, before he felt Niki's hand leave his shoulder and meet his chin, pulling his face up for his eyes to meet hers.  
  


"Keep your eyes on me, I got you. I'm here."  
  


They swayed gently, Niki leaning into Will, humming along gently.   
  


"You wanna try a spin?"  
  


"Y-Yeah."  
  


Niki stood straight, Wilbur frowning at the warmth leaving his chest, removing her hand from his shoulder gently, and held their intertwined hands up. She twirled her body around, hair spinning with her as she giggled, and Will felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. She made her round, and then returned to their original position, smiling.   
  


"Just like that!"   
  


They swayed a more as the song switched, but they didn't pay attention. The soft fuzz of the radio and lights of L'manburg flooded through the windows as they continued to dance, before Niki spoke,  
  


"Talk to me, Will. What's on your mind?"  
  


Wilbur sighed. He leaned his chin on her head, and began. He talked about Tommy, how he's been silent lately, besides the occasional, 'yes sir's or straightforward answers, no jokes or anything. He admitted it hurt him, deeply, because damn if he'd ever admit it to his face but he saw Tommy as a son, a very loud son, and seeing him hurt was like Wilbur was being stabbed. He talked about Tubbo, how he left, and had yet to return. He wondered if he'd been good enough. Niki said she believed he had been. He asked if he was even cut out for this position. Niki assured him he was. He mentioned the burnt uniform, how he feels terrible for hiding the evidence of Tubbo's possible death. He spoke of his fear of Tubbo's demise, and at one point he just silently cried into Niki's hair. The hand on his shoulder moved to play with his hair as she shushed him gently, letting him let it out. She leaned back, unlinking their fingers to hold his face. Her eyes were glowing with love, with understanding and sympathy, and Wilbur wanted to cry harder, he didn't deserve it. They shared a moment, staring at each other, Wilbur's eyes slightly puffy and red and full of pure pain, and Niki was determined to take it away, a swipe of her thumb against wet cheeks the starting point of her mission to rid the man of his worries. He looked younger, in the lighting, like speaking out his fears lifted years of weight from his shoulders. But he also looked more fearful, eye bags deep and pupils blown, lost and uncertain in his next steps to do the right thing.  
  


"You are doing your best you can, Will."  
  


He furrowed his brows, looking down at the blonde as if she were crazy,  
  


"I mean it, don't look at me like that. I miss when you were certain in your ability to do the right thing. I miss the stars in your eyes, like constellations drawn in the sky, and I can find nothing more beautiful than when they were still there, brighter than anything I'd ever seen. Full of hope and determination. I miss seeing you confident in yourself, in L'Manburg, in your people. You need to assure yourself that you are a marvelous leader, at least in my heart. My assurance can go a long way, but I need you to believe in yourself before my belief in you can do any good. And, I'm sure Tubbo is okay, he's a strong kid, I wish you would see that in him, sometimes."  
  


Wil laughed for the first time that night, broken and weak but still genuine, hugging her tightly and spinning her, listening to her musical laugh echo on the walls. She made him forget, for a moment, the storm of worry and inferiority swirling in his gut, and Wilbur allowed himself to melt into the moment, arms around his best friend's waist as they lived in it. A moment, with a little bit of light, a little bit of hope for the next era of L'Manburg. He took in the warmth of Niki against his chest, the smell of baked bread and flour lingering in her hair, the smile that crept onto his face.  
  


"Thank you, Niki. For everything."  
  


  
All too soon, the moment came crashing down as Tommy slammed the door open, hair disheveled and eyes blown wide, tears unshed resting on the soot colour of his eyelashes. He huffed, eyes flicking between the two concerned adults, before he took a deep breath, voice cracking from the burning urge to cry and disbelief of what he's seen,  
  


"Tubbo's back."  
  


Wilbur pulled from Niki slightly, disbelief written on his features, a lingering sense of confusion resting beneath. Niki covered her mouth, looking up at Wilbur with youthful delight.  
  


"Tubbo's home."  
  


If Tubbo wasn't dead, if he was actually home...  
  


What other explanation could there be for the uniform?


	5. Convincing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Sapnap confront Dream about the plan.

"What the _fuck_ do you mean, Tubbo wants on our side?! What kind of joke is that, Sapnap!"  
  


Sapnap stepped back, hands thrown up defensively, the blonde's angered voice tearing through his core and leaving him vulnerable and a little scared. He hated Dream's temper, hated when he got so upset he shouted, it was enough to scare the toughest of men.  
  


"Wait- I know it's insane!"  
  
Dream scoffed, arms folded as he turns his back to them,  
  
  
"Yea, _it's pretty fucking insane_!"  
  
  
Sapnap glanced to George, nudging him and gesturing to the tallest with a look of, 'convince your fucking boyfriend to let this kid into the group before he stabs me.'  
  


George looked over at Sapnap with an utterly betrayed look, annoyed he was even brought into this. He'd been just as iffy to let Tubbo into the group, but Sapnap just _HAD_ to have backup, which was reasonable, but still, George was irritated.  
  


"Fuck you Sap- He has a point, Dream. An idiotic and risky point, but still a point. If we can get Tubbo, if he's genuinely serious about joining our side, we gain access to any L'Manburg resources Tubbo has access to, and information directly from the source! Consider how close Tubbo is to Tommy and Wilbur, we can use that!"  
  


Dream turned towards the two, and although his porcelain mask shielded his face, George could hear the furrowed brow and deep frown, feel the distaste from a mile away in his words,  
  


"And if he's not? He's close to Wilbur, what's stopping this from being a trick? If he's fucking with us? How humiliating would that be, that we fell into the most obvious trap in the book, hm?"  
  


"Then we kill him, make him regret that shit! That easy!"  
  


George glared at Sapnap, and he instantly knew he spoke out of line. Dream's shoulders stiffened, and before he could make any final decisions, George spoke,  
  


"Sapnap, can we have a little bit of alone time, just Dream and I?"  
  


Sapnap quickly nodded, eyes on the floor and hands folded behind him, as he quickly made his way to the door, shuffling out and shutting it behind him. A dual sigh echoed in the room, and George stepped forward, standing in front of Dream and looking up at him. He reached up, hands slow and soft, and his gentle fingers easily unclipping the buckle holding the mask in place behind Dream's head, buried in blonde curls, as if he's completed the action a million times. As Dream's scarred features came into view, George softly smiled, setting the mask on a table behind the taller and moving his left hand to Dream's sun kissed cheek, thumbing the long scar that led from his chin to his eyebrow, crossing over his blinded eye.   
  


"You need to wear that less, I miss your face sometimes. The smile is kinda creepy, too, I like your pretty face a lot better than that."  
  


Dream laughed, though his smile didn't reach his eyes, and set his hand atop George's on his cheek, rubbing his rough thumb over the soft pale skin on George's knuckles.  
  


"I'm terrified, George."  
  


George met Dream's eyes, scanning the emerald pools with smooth brown, finding semi-familiar fear and uneasiness. He rubbed his thumb gently across his freckled cheekbone, sighing at Dream's expression. He was never one to be vulnerable, using the mask as a front to hide his true self, George was well aware of how Dream is. George knew he was insanely lucky to be able to see this side of Dream, the side of flaws and secrets George learned to balance, to keep Dream grounded. He saw the everlasting hurt of previous betrayals, ones George wasn't close enough to help him through at the time, ones he only learned of from stories of the past as they lay in the grass on nights of insomnia. The night Dream opened up to him, the night of metal clasps sliding from their place to drop porcelain onto calloused hands, the night George saw him for the first time, vulnerable and comfortable and everything George wished to hold and cherish for the rest of his time in this world and the next, he remembers it so clearly. The fear he sees now is the fear he saw that day, the fear George would turn away his flaws and leave him with another wall to build, but now it's directed at someone new. George knew why he was so hesitant of traitors, why his team was built so tightly of close friends, avoiding abandonment at all costs. He knew why he was hesitant of Tubbo in particular. He knew, and he wished to make it different. He wished he could make Dream's past was different.  
  
  
"I know, Dream, we all are. This is...a big risk we'd be taking, and I know-"  
  


George's breath hitches as he cuts himself off, rethinking his words before he set something off, broke the softness of the moment. He took a moment to compose himself, and then began again,  
  


"I know it's _hard_ , to trust people. I'm very grateful you trust me. So please understand that when I say that I think we can trust Tubbo, I mean it. We don't have to let him in completely, don't have to share more than necessary. You don't have to open up to him like this, hell, you don't have to open up at all. But please, give him a chance? When- When Sapnap brought him in, my first instinct was to interrogate him, maybe even.. But you didn't see the look he gave us, when he woke up. It was the look of pure fear, I've only seen it once, so full of hurt and sorrow and- I know you don't want me to say it but- I saw so much of you in that hurt. Even with everything in my body screaming at me to not trust him, I had to help him, because if I can help him, I can make up for the time I couldn't help you. He burnt his uniform, Dream, isn't that fucking sick? They're hurting him there, they're breaking him down and he's just found himself a way out, so if we turn him away.. I wouldn't be able to live it down, and I know a part of you couldn't either. Give him a chance, please? For me? If not for anything, for him?"  
  


Dream's eyes traced the features of George's face, searching for any sign of humor or lightheartedness, but all he found was an expression pleading with him to let his walls down, if only for a moment, and consider this not as a leader, but as a human. Dream sighed, furrowing his brows and smiling lightly,  
  


"You really are serious about this, huh Georgie? You know how hard it is to let my guard down, how long it took me to even let you in. You know what Tubbo is to me, and you know I love you. you know everything. And you knew exactly what had to be said to.."  
  


He turned, and gently kissed George's palm, speaking into it in a whisper,  
  


"To make me consider. You're very convincing, George, I like that about you. I think.. Let me speak with him, one time, and then I'll make a choice."  
  


George's smile spread across his cheeks, and Dream's heart thumped in his chest at the man before him he trusted so deeply. Happiness as unbridled as this was a rare occurrence in the brit, Dream only witnessing it a handful of times. Like when Dream came back from a month long mission with all his limbs in tact, when he'd finally gotten good enough at sword combat to knock Dream on his ass in the mud. When Dream first unclipped his mask and put all his secrets on display, only for George and the stars. When Dream told George of everything, when he told him he loved him the first time. And now, Dream can take in just how much George wanted- needed- to help Tubbo, through the smile on his soft lips and the sparkle in the sea of spruce, and his heart warmed. Something deep told him it was a mistake, told him to turn around and put his walls up higher, to turn George away and never speak of this again. But he found himself unable to move to his mask, only able to smile back at George and take his hand gently in his, lace their fingers together, and speak gently, as if a secret,  
  


"I'll give him a chance for you, my love."  
  


George threw his arms around Dream's shoulders, causing the taller to wobble, before he chuckled and placed his hands gently on George's back, warm through his T-shirt.   
  
  


"Thank you, Dream, I'm serious. This feels right."  
  


Dream smiled, squeezing George a little tighter, hand perfect in his own, before pulling back, using his free hand to reach for his mask. He'd assume they'd have to leave the room soon, to tell Sapnap of the decision and talk logics. As he slowly let go of George's hand, frowning slightly at the loss of warmth, and pressed the cool porcelain to his features, he spoke,  
  


"Now...how are we gonna do this? You got a plan?"


	6. Threats.

Tubbo was never a good liar, hell, never a liar in general. So, why in this moment, did it come easier to him than breathing air? He assumes, he's just on the right edge of over it, enough to justify a bit of lying.  
  


As soon as he was within the walls, Tommy and Wilbur sat him down and interrogated him heavily, much how Tubbo expected Sapnap and George to act when he first awoke. It's as if they'd switched places, his teammates now in the position of his enemies, and vice versa. He'd lied to the best of his abilities, talked about how he just needed to blow some steam off and spent the night with someone of the neutral party, which seemed to have Tommy ease up a little.   
  


There was one question left, Wilbur hesitant to ask, didn't want the answer in case it solidified his theories. He swallowed, clasping his hands and leaning on his knees, and spit out,  
  


"What happened to your uniform, Tubbo?"  
  


Tubbo's shoulders tensed, though hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn't directly looking for a reaction of those sort, though Wilbur caught it. _Please, Tubbo,_ he pleaded in his mind, _be honest one more time_.

  
Tubbo swallowed thickly, a nervous smile on his face as he avoided eye contact with Wilbur. Tommy leaned forward as well, the conversation bringing his interest back as he finally noticed Tubbo's attire.   
  
  


"Yea, and where's the sweater from? You didn't leave in a sweater, and you fuckin' hate the colour red, what's up with it?"  
  
  


Tubbo played with the sleeves of the too-big sweater he had on, body hot with guilt and mind grinding for some excuse.  
  


"A-Ah, yea, I- I must've let my uniform behind when I left this morning, a-and they lended me the sweater b-because my clothes were dirty, yea, because I-I tripped and fell."  
  


Tommy seemed convinced enough, leaning back in the chair and nodding, mumbling something about how he's, 'Always been a little clumsy.'  
  


Wilbur chewed the inside of his cheek. It was a blatant, straight faced lie. Why was Tubbo lying to them? What did he have to hide from them? Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing Tommy and Tubbo's attention to him, Tubbo's hand pausing where they were presumably rubbing self consciously on the small horns buried in brunet hair, Tommy pausing the joke he was currently making about them.  
  


"Tommy, do you think Tubbo and I can have a moment alone? I want to catch him up on the actions L'Manburg took in his absence."  
  


Tommy nodded with a firm, 'Yes, Sir.' and left, leaving the thick tension between Tubbo and Wilbur to grow, Tubbo's eyes nervously flicking across the cracked cobblestone walls, avoiding Wilbur's burning gaze.  
  


"So-"  
  


Wilbur surged forward, taking hold of the front of Tubbo's sweater and leaning in, angry brown meeting fear, and Wilbur felt a tinge of pride in still being able to instill fear in someone. He glared Tubbo down, teeth clenched as he spoke his threats,  
  


"I swear to fucking god, Tubbo, if I hear one more lie out of your mouth I will not hesitate to exile you and ensure your demise, got it? I don't know who you think you're lying to, and I damn well know you didn't think I would believe it. You really think you could get away with burning your uniform? I will give you one chance, and ONLY one chance, to explain what the fuck you were thinking, and if I have any reason to believe it is a lie, and you're betraying the trust i have instilled on you, I will make sure that you do not spend another sunrise within these walls, will not spend another minute as Tommy's right hand, and you will be barred. Permanently. From my nation. I'm not playing these fucking games when my soldiers' lives are on the line. Speak."  
  


Tubbo was visibly shaking in Wilbur's grasp, eyes flickering from the crumbled red within the taller's fists to the burning fury in his eyes, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from showing how weak he was, lip quivering in the efforts. His voice shook and wavered, breaking on the attempts to keep it steady enough to be understandable,  
  


"W-Wil, I- I didn't m-mean to, I was j-j-just trying to get warm, and the flint caught m-my sleeve. I couldn't put it o-out in time, I forgot my-my water bucket here- please-please don't exile me, I-I promise I'm only faithful to you. I-I lied because-because I know how much the u-uniforms mean to Tommy and Niki a-and I didn't want-want them upset that it got de-stroyed. Please believe me."  
  


Wilbur's eyes flicked between Tubbo's for a moment. It was...a believable scenario, really. Wilbur couldn't count the amount of times he'd flicked a flint too close too something flammable and caught it ablaze. He held back a shutter as he remembered the countless amounts of properties he'd damaged on accident. Wilbur sighed, releasing Tubbo's now wrinkled sweater collar with an embarrassed tint in his features, feeling bad for making the young boy cry, for threatening him in the first place.   
  


"That's...believable. I apologize for being so harsh, you know how times are. I'm choosing to believe you Tubbo, but know my threat will always stand. If I find out that was lie, I will ensure that you get the punishment I see fit."  
  


Wilbur scoffed, holding the bridge of his nose tightly,  
  


"Imagine how hurt Tommy would have been if that had gone any other way.."  
  


He released the bridge of his nose, waving his hand and pacing to the other side of the room,  
  


"You're dismissed, Tubbo. Be more careful next time."  
  


"Y-Yes sir."  
  


Tubbo nodded, hanging his head as silent tears trailed his cheeks. He quickly went to the door, shutting it behind him and raising his head. He wiped the tears on his sweater sleeve, smiling to himself as he cleaned himself up. His act was really that believable? Or, maybe Wilbur was just extremely gullible. Either way, Tubbo was really fortunate in this moment for his ability to play pretend.

  
He stepped into the crisp night air, taking a deep breath. The air in the walls felt sour, somehow, like before a storm, or maybe it was Tubbo no longer associating this place with comfort. He smoothed the sweater down a couple times, making a mental note to apologize to Sapnap for the newly formed stretches and wrinkles from Wilbur's grasp. Instead of heading towards his home, Tubbo made his way to the corner of the wall, pushing past redwood tree branches and brushing leaves from his hair, finally reaching the other end and smiling upon the hidden away hole in the walls. he was glad no one had thought to patch it, though, it's not like they really had the resources to. Placing a hand upon the blackstone and feeling the rough material beneath his fingertips, the insides of the walls felt colder than ever. His eyes followed his fingers as they gently brushed, before letting his hand drop completely from the wall, a crack in the outside alerting him of a presence. He stiffened himself, taking a step outside the wall before there was a glint and cold gem pressed to his neck, bringing just an edge of pain as it bloomed over his neck. He threw his hands up in defense, eyes trained on the blade as he kept his lips shut, smart enough to not make a noise in fear of alerting anyone.  
  


  
He followed the blade with his eyes, the scarred hand that held it tan and freckled, following an equally freckled arm and shoulder, a black turtleneck, and then a white mask, cracked and worn from years of constant use. His eyes widened as he processed the sight, and when he did his shoulders visibly slumped and he lowered his hands, knowing he was safer than he thought.  
  


"You actually came, Dream."  
  


Dream lowered his sword, placing it back in the sheath slung at his hip, and he nodded, slight smile present in his voice,  
  


"That I did."


	7. Conversing With the Enemy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo and Dream talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually add chapter notes but I just wanna say I'm sorry the wait for this chapter was a little longer than others! I went back and forth with myself on the plot, and this chapter in particular, and it took me a bit to get where I wanted to be with this chapter. Hope you enjoy anyways <3

Yes, L'Manburg was beautiful. Emphasis on was.  
  


  
Now plagued with conflict and tension, the strings keeping the operation afloat were snapping. Each day a new thread snapped, and only now the people attempting to keep L'Manburg from falling were realizing, too late to stop the damage. Tubbo and Tommy were the final strings, and as their friendship begins to snap, they watch with contrasting emotions as L'Manburg finally crumbles.  
  


Tubbo sits in the soft grass, a halo of moon light casting itself upon fair skin, legs crossed and hands settled in his lap. Dream kneels beside him, arms steady on his knees, emotion unreadable.  
  


"Are you sure you're serious? This isn't a game anymore, the protection you were guaranteed beneath L'Manburg will cease to exist if you go through with this. You're going to lose family, you're going to be an outcast, a traitor, to most of the server, even after the war. You can't go back from this, don't think for a moment you can. The life you've been living these past few years will no longer be yours."  
  


Tubbo nods, fingers idly rubbing across a scar on the back of his hand, the memory of it long faded, an incident from his childhood he wasn't old enough to remember. Dream watched his fingers cross the elevated skin as he waited for the younger to speak.  
  


"People keep asking me if I'm serious. I know the consequences, the weight of, everything. I've had my own share of thoughts on this before, when the war was still young. They'd usually appear quickly, leave quickly, and they'd make me feel upset, and I'd wonder for days after why I had those thoughts. The breaking point, was probably after Tommy and I fought. I'd never heard so much genuine.. distaste in his voice. It was like, he thought so little of me, and it made me think just- how long has he been feeling like this? How long have I been feeling like this?"  
  


Tubbo sighs, turning his head to gaze at the smile on dreams mask, body tingling in nerves as uneasiness settled into his bones. He continued speaking nonetheless, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, 

  


"I'm over it. I can make choices on my own, I'm not a child, and this is what I want to do. It's taken me a while, longer than it should've, to realize that this is what needs to happen. This, for the first time in my life, feels like fate. And, If fate wills it so, then who am I to deny her? Wilbur and Tommy think they can get everything they want, that's the mentality they've had this entire time. They think they're high and mighty, think they can boss me around, they used to be able to boss me around. War changes men, I know that well, but never in the way they've changed. I'm beginning to believe this isn't change, it's the nature of their soul shining through now that there's no reason to keep a front up. Perhaps it's a way to cope when your world is as theirs is, but it becomes more and more unlikely."  
  


Tubbo scoffed, shaking his head, and when he confirmed Dream didn't intend on speaking yet, he continued opening up.   
  


Deep down, Dream envied his abilities to be so carefree when speaking of his experiences.   
  


  
"Dream, Wilbur threatened me, as soon I came home this morning. Does that seem like a person I want to protect? His actions make me sick, how he can parade around like his affect on us isn't detrimental, like he isn't tearing each of us apart. He's corrupted Tommy, he's losing all connections with Fundy, he's turned me into this.. monster. during the beginnings of the war, Fundy used to come to me every night and cry, because he just wanted his father back. He witnessed first hand the cruelty of our so-called leader. He just wanted a fucking childhood, a bond with his father, _something_. Some nights he'd ask me to run away with him. I declined, and maybe I shouldn't have. Wilbur has ruined us all, himself included. It's like his first instinct isn't to check on a friend, or a soldier, it was to ensure that he was still a higher up, he had to make sure he still had power over me. Do you want me to be honest?"  
  


Tubbo tilted his head slightly, a smirk rising to his face, and continued. He wondered when he became this cold and cruel, when Tommy and Wilbur stopped being his friend, stopped putting up the act to make him seem liked. He wondered when he became so rational.  
  


"I want to watch them fall from their throne they've created for themselves with the Gods. I want to watch it all burn in the hellfire below. They deserve every bad thing coming to them from this. And yeah, part of me, some rational little bit of me feels bad for doing this to them. I'm sure you've felt betrayal before, Dream, and you know how it is. But, really, I couldn't give less of a shit, because through all the things they've put me through during this war, giving them just a small taste of their medicine would satisfy me greatly. I have never been more serious about something in my life, than I am about the fact that I want to bring them down. Please, let me be your ally. You wanted to know if I'm serious, and I think I've proven I am pretty. Damn. Serious. "  
  


Dream, ever so unreadable, stood silently, the only indication he'd even moved was the gentle crunch of grass and leaves beneath his worn boots. He sighed, tilting his head side to side, cracking his neck as he considered. Tubbo sounded genuine, and serious, and although the extent of Tubbo was known only from faded years in the past, he knew he this sadistic behaviour was unseen until now.   
  
He must be so close to the edge of insanity.

  
 _But_ , a dark voice in Dream's head whispered, voice cold and undeniably familiar, _that's exactly what the other's said_. They'd shown him the same compassion, same motives, same faux alliance, and, well...the scars that litter his body and mind show how well believing them worked for him. He gave in to the deep and slurred words of the voice as he had many times, weighing his options.  
  


"I can't...trust you right off the bat, Tubbo, no matter how compelling your speech was, no matter how much of your life story you tell me. I need proof that you mean every word that's come from your mouth, because I know perception comes easy to most, and your emotions are skewed at the moment, I don't want you making impulsive decisions and putting your life or my team's lives on the line."  
  
  
He paused, and the voice grew tenfold, bringing with it the sickness and sourness of intoxicants and cinnamon stings, the sound of glass shattering and dull pain spreading across his face, chanting for chaos. Chanting for blood. Chanting to take lives.  
  


"And I know exactly how you can prove that."  
  


A swipe of his hand, and Tubbo's eyes widened as Dream equipped a round of TNT, Dream looking down at it, weighing it in the palm of his hand, before extending it to the startled boy.  
  


"Prove it. Lace L'Manburg with this. If you're as willing to put this land, these people, in danger as you say, then do it. I wont tell you when I'm going to detonate it, just know, the next time you see us, I suggest you get out of there as fast and as innocently as possible. I reckon by then I'll have decided if you're loyal or not."  
  


Dream watched for any hesitation in the younger's movements, any doubts or recoils in his brown eyes, but found nothing but determination, an urge to prove himself as more, and Dream nearly smiled.  
  


Tubbo reached forward, taking the stack from Dream and placing it in his own inventory.  
  


"I'll do it, you can count on that."


	9. Boom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND DEATH :)

"Gentlemen!"  
  


Tubbo hated early mornings.  
  


"Outside! Outside, now!"  
  


He hated the last week and a half he'd spent cooped up in the walls, as well.  
  


Tommy had reamed him about the uniform once he'd gotten him alone, ranting and flailing about how long it took to design it, how many times he'd poked himself, how hard it was on him. Tubbo felt sick for an hour afterwards, not because he destroyed the uniform, but because he yet again upset Tommy, and proved the blonde's growing distaste for him. The walls were as awful as ever, squeezing and suffocating in their swirling, contained storm of torment and misery. The TnT had weighed heavy in Tubbo's inventory, so he'd planted it as soon as possible, tracing the delicate and dangerous red beneath the soil of the land cautiously.  
  


When was Dream's plan going to go into effect? Why did he have to be stuck in hell for so long without even a glimpse at his next step?   
  


Tubbo groaned and rolled off his stiff bed, tugging a yellow sweater from the floor and tiredly slipping it over his head, grumbling about the slightly itchy material. He tugged boots from beneath the bed and lazily laced them, running his hand through his hair in between to try and calm it. Soon he was up and walking outside, grimacing in the sunlight and shielding his eyes, making his way through the slightly dewy grass to stand in line next to Niki, feeling out of place among the blue and red uniforms. He gently toes a pile of dirt in front of him as Wilbur speaks in front of them.  
  


Maybe Dream was making a fool of him. It was probable, Dream made a solid case on how much he doesn't trust Tubbo, maybe he's planned it to make him seem so desperate. Break him down more, weaken yet another one of Wilbur's men. He shakes his head; Dream wouldn't do that.  
  


"Glad you could join us, Tubbo, albeit a bit late. No new uniform yet?"  
  


  
Tubbo stifled a yawn, drawn from his wandering thoughts by the gruff voice of his faux commander. He stiffened his shoulders, arms crossed behind his back, to at least create some sense of loyalty.  
  


"N-No sir. I told- I told Tommy and Niki to hold off on it. Uniforms can wait on men, war cannot."  
  


_There's no use in wasting materials._   
  


"Smart choice. Listen up everyone, here's what's happening today!"  
  


Tubbo tuned out Wilbur as he devised the plan for today, eyes following the lace of his boot that had stubbornly fallen from his half-assed ties. His heart felt heavy, as if something was going to happen, though he didn't know what. A sense of dread held him tight nevertheless, suffocating and barring him from a moment of calmness, unrelenting in it's duty to drown him. He peeled from it's grasp to catch the last bit of Wilbur's talk, explaining each individual duty, his eyes falling on Tubbo as he opened his mouth to speak. His words died on his tongue, though, as an arrow whistled through the air, landing mere feet from Tubbo, who recoiled on himself, nearly knocking Niki over in the process. All the soldiers' eyes followed the invisible death trail the arrow left in the air, falling on the green cloak and white bandana of the opposing team, standing tall upon the cracking walls of their nation. Tubbo felt slight relief at their presence, though not allowing himself to succumb completely to the feeling, aware of his role he has to upkeep.  
  


"What the fuck are they doing here," Tommy mumbled from behind Tubbo, who held back a flinch at the voice appearing behind him. Tubbo glanced at the blonde, who had stepped to be at his side next to him, hands cupped around his mouth, ready to yell up at the team,   
  


"Yo dickhead! The fuck is up?!"  
  


Another arrow, flaming and shot from a blue blur, narrowly missing Tommy's feet, burying itself in the grass in front of him. He jumped back with a yelp, pouting over being shot at, quickly stomping out the small fire the arrow generated. Tubbo gulped, aware that if the arrow had buried its flame any deeper, it would've set off the strings of death he himself had laid beneath the land.  
  


"Gentlemen," Wilbur began towards the figures, taking a step to the front of the group, taking his role as leader, calling up to the offenders, "Enjoying the view of our nation?"  
  


A moment of silence, and then Dream's voice cutting through the crisp air, voice lighthearted as he leaned on his sword's handle, point buried in the top of the Blackstone walls.   
  


"I thought this was a trailer park."  
  


Tubbo had to use ever muscle in his body to stop from bursting into laughter, surely unprofessional and definitely suspicious enough to draw attention. He nearly said 'fuck it' when he trailed Wilbur's deadpan expression.  
  


"Funny! Look, come down here, we can talk through whatever you may need civilly, on the same level."  
  


Green glancing to blue, then to white, then back down at the leader of the rebellion, before all 3 turned and made their way down the wall. Wilbur sighed, turning towards the large entrance carved into the walls, waiting with baited breath for the trio to emerge into view. After a minute or two they did, standing underneath the haphazardly made arch with a lot more trust to the structure than Tubbo would put into it himself. The larger group stepped forward, several feet between the opposing sides, Wilbur standing parallel to Dream in front.   
  


"What's the occasion, fellas?"  
  


Wilbur was standing tall, attempting to use his 2 inch difference to his advantage, though to Tubbo, and most likely the rest of the Dream Team, he seemed like a kitten trying to oppose a lion, small and weak within the tough skin he puts on.  
  


"We wanted to discuss, or, negotiate. Wilbur, this game is getting a tad repetitive, don't you think? I have a proposition; you won't want to deny this, trust me. Option A, you give up! You surrender your land to Dream SMP, you can keep the walls, you can keep the structures, but the land is not separate, you will not be granted emancipation,"  
  


Wilbur opened his mouth to prematurely protest, before Dream stuck a hand up, something round and red in the palm of his hand. Tubbo's eyes widened as he registered the object, his blood rushing and brain begging him to run,  
  


"Or, I light this TnT. And, I promise you, you do not want me to light this."  
  


Niki stepped forward, pressed to Wilbur's side, glaring down the masked man and his allies with a piercing stare. Wilbur scoffed, arms crossing as he looked at Dream with distaste and doubt, the ghost of a smirk resting on his lips.  
  


"My nation is no game, Dream, and I'm certainly not threatened by a single piece of TnT. Go ahead, light it."  
  


Dream leaned to press the TnT into the soil, burying the bottom of it in the loose dirt, and Tubbo's heart faltered as he stared where red sunk into brown, hyperaware of just how much explosive lied beneath that piece in particular. Through the rushing in his ears Tubbo heard faded boots pounding on gravel, but his body wouldn't allow him to look for the source, to focused on the tool of destruction in front of him.  
  


A skilled flick of a flint, Wilbur and Niki standing ground, and as the fuse quickly burnt down, Tubbo looked up in time to link eyes with Sapnap, who simply mouthed one word to him, a warning,   
  


_Run._   
  


Wilbur watched the TnT explode into a small white cloud as Tubbo began to back up, staring at the abundance of explosives now lit from the aftermath, sizzling like a deadly bomb, before turning and bolting, hearing Wilbur's shout of, "What the fuck?!" as he ran as fast as he could, chest heaving with the strain.   
  


He had to get to the hole in the wall, he had to get away-  
  


A stutter in his step, a step on his god damn untied lace, and his world was tilting, body colliding heavily with the gravel beneath him, hands and knees stinging as he fell. There was no time to get up as he turned to his back, staring at the entrance where the Dream Team were retreating, whooping and hollering, and-  
  


And Niki, frozen in place, staring down at the ready to blow TnT.  
  


Tubbo couldn't process it in time, another shout, the tell-tale sound of an explosion rumbling his eardrums as he turned, curling in on his knees and covering the back of his neck, wincing as chunks of dirt and gravel rained down on him. He didn't know how long the explosion lasted, ears ringing painfully, but once the rain of shrapnel calmed he assumed it was over. He looked up, assessing the damages,  
  


  
L'Manburg was ruined. Split in half by the explosion, half the camarvan missing, scattered around the land in pieces and bits.

And the bundle of people crouched to the side of the crater, cradling a limp body in their arms, shoulders visibly shaking with body rupturing sobs, blood covering their hands and the blue of their uniform. Tubbo stared a moment, unable to process the site, before he looked towards his previous destination. There, the team stood, gesturing for him to follow, and he blindly complied, the group too distracted with the loss to recognize him scrambling out of the walls.  
  


Wilbur sobbed heavily, clutching Niki's injured and bloodied body in his arms. He was muttering incoherently, Tommy crouched next to him with a hand on his shoulder, other cradled close to his chest, sleeve a deep crimson with his own injuries.  
  


"I-I lost her- I lost- Tom- I can't-"  
  


Tommy shushed him, glancing down at the peaceful look of Niki, before looking away, unable to stand seeing her in the state of eternal peace, tears uncomfortable on his lashes. He busied himself looking around for any other casualties, any injuries that needed tending to, but only found tears and grief.  
  


And a missing Tubbo.  
  


"Will-Will- did you see Tubbo after the explosion? Did you see where he went."  
  


Wilbur slowly lifted his head, frantically searching, eyes begging for any sign of life from the young brunette, finding nothing but empty and catastrophically damaged acres.  
  


"Tommy..did we- d-did we lose them both tonight?"  
  


No answer. Silence thick with disbelief and sorrow, and then a heart wrenching sob ripping through the leader, raw and emotional as he hung his head, hugging Niki's limp form close to him, begging and yelling, Tommy watching on with laboured breathing and eyes wide with realization.  
  


Had they lost Tubbo? In the blink of an eye, did he lose his best friend? He should've stayed next to him, should've ran with him, instead of being a coward and running before Dream even lit the first piece.  
  


  
_Dream._   
  


Tommy grit his teeth, standing, leaving Wilbur in the comfort of Fundy, who'd joined him at some point in time, staring at Niki as if it was an illusion, as if she wasn't dead in his father's arms.  
  


Sorrow turned to rage, a burning inferno in the pit of the blonde's stomach, coursing his veins and burning him brighter than the core of earth.  
  


The green bastard was going to pay, even if it meant death in Tommy's future. 


	10. A/N: NOT A CHAPTER!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a chapter unfortunately! Just addressing where I've been and when there will be a new chapter :]

Hello!

So I haven't updated in a bit, and that's my bad >~< I haven't had a lot of motivation, really, and I'm trying to figure out how to continue the plot. I've also picked up a lot of other projects, and I'm spreading myself REAL thin atm. The next chapter should be out in the next couple weeks though (I haven't started it but I'm a pretty quick writer so it's not a problem) I'm sorry for the wait and I hope I can make it worth it!


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